Short version: Not Dead

And I shall be celebrating my not-dead-edness with an entry this evening.

Warning: complaining ahead.  This is my blog so I am allowed an occasional moment of self-indulgent whining.  If not interested, the gif above tells you all you really need to know. ;)

Could this school year have been more demanding?  No, I don't think it could have.  My blogging wasn't the only thing that suffered.  I stopped exercising with my usual regularity because I was pulling 10-12 hour days, some of my friends have been (rightfully) complaining that I REALLY need to call them back, and when my husband and I actually spend a week night in each other's company, we're amazed. (to be clear on this one, though, he works even longer hours than I do, so... well, there's that.)

Why was this school year hard?  Three main reasons.
1. I'm the new head of the department.  Yayz for that, but jezus, was it a lot of time.  I mean, I knew I was capable of doing it and I don't think I made a total muck of things in my first year, but it was a big step up in terms of commitment.
2. I had double the number of students in my AP Chem course from any previous year.  Great, right?  Kids are interested and signing up for my course, huzzah!  Well, yes, and naturally I was stoked, but holy cow did the workload for prep/planning/GRADING double as well.
3. AP Chemistry changed.  The College Board, aka the group that runs all AP programs, ran a new curriculum this year.  Which means I had to run it.  Which means GOODBYE OLD LESSON PLANS I SHAN'T BE NEEDING YOU ANYMORE HELLO HOURS OF WORK PLANNING NEW LESSONS!

Anyways.

</complaining>

But the AP Chem exam was two and a half weeks ago, I have five more weeks until summer vacation, and my life is suddenly much more my own.

Honestly, it feels so very very nice to have the time and mental energy and desire to think about films again.

I'm planning on trying to get back to blogging by focusing more on my "happy" movies, movies that don't bring me down too much because after this year, I want to focus on happy diversions.

SO LOOK!  AN ACTUAL HONEST TO GOODNESS ENTRY!

Lost in Translation

 

Lost in Translation

2003

Director: Sofia Coppola

Starring: Bill Murray, Scarlett Johansson, Giovanni Ribisi

I need to say this straight off the bat: I can’t write a normal review of Lost in Translation.  Expect precious little of what’s to follow to be my typical attempts at any sort of analysis of the filmmaking techniques, production design, or story symbolism.  Apologies if that’s what you wanted.

Right. On with it then.

I’ve only seen Lost in Translation twice; once, in 2004 after it came out on DVD, and just a few days ago for the 1001 Movies Blog Club.  Despite the decade since I last saw it, I vividly remember that initial experience.  It was late at night, I was a little tired, my then-boyfriend-now-husband had gone to bed, and I sat down to watch this film that my friend Dyami had been gushing over.  I really enjoyed it – I knew I would – but as it came to a close, I remember being overcome by incredible emotion.  I remember sobbing my way through the final scenes, then continuing to sob rather uncontrollably for at least another thirty minutes.  Something in this film had touched a nerve, a very raw nerve, that the lateness of the hour and my tiredness only exacerbated.  In seeing it for a second time, that nerve was not quite as exposed, but still there nonetheless.

Bob Harris (Murray) is a middle-aged washed up movie actor being overpaid to promote whiskey in Tokyo, Japan.  He forgets his son’s birthday while his wife FedExes carpet samples to his hotel room.  Charlotte (Johansson) is a college grad who majored in philosophy and now finds herself married to a photographer (Ribisi) and without any idea what to do with her life now that she’s tagged along with him to Tokyo.  Both Bob and Charlotte feel completely alienated by not only Tokyo but their lives, and this is enough of a commonality for them to strike up an unlikely friendship.

Bill Murray is so wonderful in this film, and I remember, at the time, that it was such a BIG FREAKIN’ DEAL in the media.  Everyone, and I do mean everyone, was all “holy F*%@ Bill Murray can actually act and express emotions and everything!”  He was nominated for his one and only Oscar for his role as Bob Harris, but something I’ve been thinking about is that no one should have been THAT surprised.  Frankly, Murray’s filmography for the ten years prior to Lost in Translation was building up to this, a perfectly seriocomic role.  In my opinion, it all starts with Groundhog Day in 1993, then goes on to Ed Wood with Tim Burton in 1994, then most significantly on to Rushmore in 1998 and The Royal Tenenbaums in 2001, both with Wes Anderson.  The fact that Murray was specifically choosing work that defied his early slapstick routines (he also managed to be in a Shakespeare movie before Lost in Translation) was apparent.  Since Lost in Translation, he has continued his relationship with Wes Anderson, becoming in some ways a grand duke of the indie film scene, and has also cultivated a relationship with Jim Jarmusch of all people.  I give Murray all the credit in the world for clearly seeking divergent film roles, because he is just wonderful when he tones down the stupid comedy and allows the sadness to peek through.  I’m not surprised at all that a generation of younger filmmakers have wanted to use him in their work. 

I don’t often write about it on my blog, but back in 2004, I was in a PhD program doing biochemistry research.  I was utterly miserable, but I hadn’t yet realized I was miserable.  (It would take another 18 months for me to finally face the issue and leave the program, moving on to something that DIDN’T take a jackhammer to my sense of self-worth.)  Like Charlotte, I was in my early to mid-twenties and I felt adrift.  And that night that I watched Lost in Translation for the first time, this film was an enormous trigger that managed to convey some of the hopelessness and lack of direction I was drowning in.  Although I still could not completely admit it to myself at the time, now with 20/20 hindsight I have no doubt that the minor breakdown this film gave me was because I identified a bit too much with the emotional message here.  When I watched it just a few days ago, the tears at the end were caused not by a current sense of angst in my life, but of remembrance; recalling just how emotionally draining and numbing those years in the lab were, recalling just how pathetic I felt then, how utterly useless and ineffectual I thought I was because my experiments never worked (not once, not ever, not even the goddamned controls did what they were supposed to do), how much of a failure I thought myself.  Quite frankly, this film isn’t the easiest thing in the world for me to watch, not because it’s bad or horrific, but because it has a way of pulling all those old emotions out to surface. 

Which is definitely a bit of a testament to the film, because I was working in a biochemistry research lab and Charlotte was in Tokyo for a few weeks.  Not exactly the same thing.

It’s very difficult for me to be objective or analytical about this film.  This is a much more subjective experience for me, as I just watch this and feel.  I feel Charlotte’s depression as she tries to tell her friend she doesn’t know who she married only to have the friend blow her off.  I have also had a friend during this time in my life who was a bit like Bob Harris, someone who, although a generation apart from me, I connected with and who I got along extraordinarily well with and who made me forget, albeit for short periods of time, how much sadness I was really hiding.  Although an argument can be made, depending on your frame of mind, that Coppola pushes the relationship between Bob and Charlotte to the brink of sexual tension, and I honestly do not think that I ever had *that* kind of relationship with my friend, I relate yet again to understanding the feeling of respite caused by an unlikely friend. 

This movie.  This movie was my early to mid-twenties.  The deep seated denial that I was sad (I wasn’t supposed to be sad, I was in biochemistry PhD program for crying out loud), the feelings of hopelessness and uselessness that almost consumed me, Lost in Translation brings it out in a beautiful, sadly poignant way.  On the surface, my story is not at all like Charlotte’s, but Sofia Coppola knew what she was doing, knew that her particular story of cultural alienation could really strike far deeper. 

This is not a movie I can watch lightly or “have on in the background.”  I’m in a much better place now than I was ten years ago, but the experience in the lab was a bit emotionally scarring and I still struggle with some of those feelings of loss of self-worth (and I have a feeling I will always feel like something of a failure).  Lost in Translation is a film that reminds me of that phase of my life, for better or for worse, and while it makes me happy to know I’m not there anymore, this movie has a way of reminding me just how painful those years were.

For the record, I think this movie is awesome.  It just strikes a bit too close to home for me to watch it with any regularity.

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10, and apologies if you actually wanted me to talk about the movie rather than whinging on about myself.

Two things!

Thing the first: So a package arrived today.  From Amazon.  It weighs about the same as a brick.

We all know what's in that package:

I'm not allowed to open it.

Sigh...

See, the book was SUPPOSED to come out on October 1st.  My birthday.  FORTUITOUS TIMING! 

And then the stupid book went ahead and came out early, and now I am under strict orders not to touch it until my actual birthday because hey, birthday present.  Celebrations, and what not. 

So yes, right now, I am staring malevolently at the stupid Amazon package that sits taunting me on the other side of the room.  Three more weeks...


Thing the second: I have not been posting as much recently - duh.  I am currently not two full weeks into the school year, and I have been pulling nearly 60 hour weeks thus far. I've mentioned my career occasionally here, and I'd like to now take the opportunity to say that I take teaching and my career very seriously.  I am tremendously passionate about it, even more so than film, and I've been hoping for further opportunities to stretch myself.  Well, this year really seems to be THAT year.  I'm the new Science Department Leader this year, which is a tremendous vote of faith in my abilities considering this is my sixth year teaching.  I'm mentoring a new teacher, which I'm very excited about because she has such amazing potential and she's doing a great job thus far.  I'm presenting at the state science teachers' conference in early November, which will be the first time I've formally presented a workshop at a conference.  I'm applying again to present at a national conference slated for next summer, and the very nit-picky application is due in mid-October.  Additionally, I have to massively overhaul my Advanced Chemistry course for a variety of reasons this year (best reason: 60+ students signed up for it, more than double from last year), and that's taking a tremendous amount of time.

I am not complaining about a single thing in the above paragraph.  I've worked my ass off in the past to get into the position to be able to do all those things, and now I feel like that work is starting to bear fruit, and that's really exciting.  But something has to take a backseat.  And for the moment, that's movie watching and movie writing. 

I'm certainly not dropping my hobby or anything.  I just might have to scale way back on my blog, only post once a week or so.

Which is fine.  Because dammit, it's my blog. 

But I miss all of you, you few regular readers of mine.  I miss being able to read all your awesome entries in the depth I'd like, and leave comments to let you know your work is not falling on deaf ears. 

So yes.  Know that my absence from the blogosphere means I'm going nuts at school, but good lord, I effing love what I do.  Yes, it stresses me out, but I would never for a second rather be doing anything else in the world.  

What Roger Ebert Meant to Me

What Roger Ebert Meant to Me

I do not think that Great Roger Ebert was an infallible film critic.  I think he had a tendency to like too many movies, to be too pig-headedly stubborn in his dislike of others, and his long-held belief that video games are not, nor can ever be, art is one that still rankles sorely in this household.

Yet I love Roger Ebert, faults and all.  And when I heard that he died yesterday, I was very, very sad. 

In many ways, I am a product of what Ebert (and Siskel) did with their radio show then television show in the seventies and eighties.  Ebert (and Siskel) brought film criticism to the masses, made it not just about watching the movies but talking about them afterwards, and made it okay and acceptable for everyone to do this, not just those trained in journalism or film techniques.  Ebert (and Siskel) bridged the gap between the “elite critics” and us couch critics, testifying that it was alright if we had an opinion too.  Everyone’s allowed.

But while I appreciate that about Ebert, that’s not why I’ll miss him.  Perhaps that’s the biggest impact he has had on me subconsciously, but much more acutely, I’ll miss his film criticism.

When I started seriously delving into film and film study in 2005/2006, it didn’t take me long to discover Ebert’s book The Great Movies.  This and its two sequels, after 1001 Movies, are my go-to film books.  In it, Ebert doesn’t simply pick the best films from a certain year, but instead, writes about the greats.  There is no ranking – the films are arranged alphabetically – and Ebert himself states that the one hundred movies in volume one are not the one hundred best, they are simply the first one hundred great films he wrote about.

I greatly respect this approach to film criticism.  Don’t get me wrong, I love making lists, rating films, assigning rankings, but it’s hard.  There are a lot of movies out there that I just love.  And I love that Ebert felt the same way and said “I want to write about these greats without bothering to rank them.  So here they are, here’s a hundred of them, there’s more where that came from.”

The fact that he loved film so absolutely is also inspirational.  Yeah, I thought he could get a bit overexcited about films I didn’t think were all that great, but really, it just goes to show his enthusiasm for the medium.  And that’s so important.  I never want to get cynical about the movies.  I will not – I WILL NOT – watch a movie if it feels like work.  That will sully the experience.  If that means it takes longer for me to finish the list of films I’m working on, then so be it.  But I’m okay with that in part because of Ebert’s enthusiasm.  He loved movies.  He really did. 

And he loved so many different kinds of movies.  When you look at the titles in his The Great Movies, there are films from every genre.  He was all about keeping an open mind.  I carry that philosophy with me.  Perhaps I may need reminding of it every now and then, but it’s definitely worth remembering. 

And then there are the essays themselves.  I love Ebert’s writing.  He has a wonderful sense of balancing the personal with the technical.  He knows how to describe his perhaps illogical love for something so well, and then go on to discuss the symbolism of the lighting choices in key scenes.  I love how free he was in including personal anecdotes in his essays.  He realized that he, as an audience member, was part of the film’s experience, and he included himself when he wrote.  Ebert was never “removed” from the article or essay, oh no.  He was there all over the place.  He wasn’t afraid to make his film criticism about his personal taste or experience.

And frankly, that’s what I love most about Ebert, and what I’ll miss most about him.  His writing is such a perfect balance between the technique and the passion of filmmaking, it almost makes me sad to think I’ll never come close to being that good.  Ebert is my biggest inspiration when I write about film.  I want to write about film the way that he did.  It honest to goodness makes me very very sad to think we’ll never get any new reviews from him, no new essays from him, no new personal anecdotes about the time he saw City Lights in a piazza in Italy. 

When I started writing more about film, I tried a couple different writing styles, but I kept on coming back to Ebert’s.  His writing is what engaged me most as a reader.  Naturally this is what I would gravitate towards as a writer myself.

I’ll miss you, Roger Ebert.  I really will.  You are my single greatest inspiration in this crazy hobby of film-blogging. 

An ode to the Dryden, aka And now for something completely different.

We interrupt this regularly scheduled movie review to bring you a recap of last night’s events.

As a film lover, you can spend a lot of time by yourself or with only a few other people consuming film.  Every now and then, however, film is not just a product, not just a piece of art to be consumed, but an event.  An honest to god event, one that brings you together with many people.  Last night was a film event.

The Dryden, the archival theater that is part of the George Eastman House and Museum, reopened last night after being closed for two months for renovations.  I am a fan of the Dryden.  I first discovered its existence in 2006, which is the year that I started to get really serious about film.  I stumbled the Dryden’s calendar and quickly realized that all these movies from 1001 Movies I was interested in watching had the chance of being seen on the big screen here.  I can’t even begin to enumerate the classic films, the hard to find films, even the contemporary films that I’ve had the joy of seeing in a theater thanks to the Dryden.  

The facade of the Dryden.

 That would be enough to make me love the Dryden in and of itself.  But the Dryden is more than just a means of watching film.  It’s also a community.  There is always an introduction before every screening where something about the film is discussed in depth.  People go the Dryden and know others there.  I’ll look around the theater prior to the screening and recognize at least half a dozen regulars I’ve seen there many times before.  There’s the rotund little gentleman who always wears suspenders and round glasses sitting reading his novel in the right orchestra section before the show.  There’s the middle-aged local actress with frizzy hair and a coffee in her hand who always shows up five minutes after the screening has started and always sits in the front row.  I have struck up conversations with those sitting around me thanks to a shared love of cinema.  I have introduced myself to the film programmer there, commending her on her choice of schedules, and we since chatted on a couple other occasions.  Going to the Dryden is much more than a regular Cineplex experience.

Add to this the fact that the Dryden does special events with guest appearances by film professionals, and the whole thing is just plain awesome.

Last night was a really big deal for the Dryden.

On January 2^nd, the Dryden closed for two months for renovations.  Good thing too, because the seats really weren’t that comfortable and the viewing experience was hardly state of the art.  To celebrate their reopening, they invited director and writer Alexander Payne to introduce his film Sideways and do a question and answer session afterwards.  I’ve been a fan of Payne since seeing Election in theaters, and in fact, the first time I went to the Dryden was when Payne came to introduce that film.  I got his autograph then and was all giddy when he answered my question in the Q&A.  I think it’s fantastic that Payne has since come back to the Dryden – this was actually his third appearance there – to support our little city’s theater.  Add to that the fact that I really adore Sideways, and buying tickets for the event was a no brainer.

The old interior of the Dryden.

 So the show started at 8pm, and me, my husband, and my sister arrived at 7:15pm only to find the parking lot was already full.  Also in the parking lot were searchlights lighting up the night sky; with the snowfall, the effect was incredibly beautiful.  Before even entering the Dryden, we knew this was an EVENT.

We walked in and the excitement was palpable.  People were swirling everywhere in the tiny lobby, and most of these people were dressed to the nines – I felt more than a bit underdressed in my dark blue jeans.  We were greeted by usher after usher who showed us to our seats – unusual given that the Dryden holds 500 people.  You don’t exactly *need* an usher.  I recognized the volunteers and the programmer and some of the curators, and it was great to see them so dressed up.  I re-introduced myself to the PR rep for the George Eastman House and briefly chatted with her, all while taking in the gorgeous new deep purple interior of the auditorium, the new dark black rug and the comfortable plush red seats.  My sister and I made our way out to the restrooms, and on our way back in, we stopped at a booth they had set up proclaiming “Share Your Favorite Dryden Memories!”  Not being shy to speak about things I love, I stepped right up to the camera and talked for about a minute about how awesome this place is.

Feeling rather buzzed by the whole experience, I was then immediately whisked to the other side of the lobby by the aforementioned PR rep.  “Are you a Dryden fan?” she asked.  “Of course!”  “My friend from the local news network wants to interview a Dryden fan, would you mind?”

So I was interviewed for the local news about the Dryden’s reopening.  The cameraman asked rather inane questions, and it wasn’t until he asked if I had anything else to say that I was able to speak to the uniqueness of the Dryden, the community I mentioned above, and what a special place it really is.  When I finished, he was thrilled – “Are you a spokesperson for the Dryden?” he asked. 

Nope, just a really big fan.  (When we came home at the end of the evening, we turned on the news network and found that yes indeed, Siobhan was on camera talking about the Dryden.  Still trying to figure out a way to upload that video.)

The news article in which I'm quoted about the event!

 In reading through the official program for the evening, I turned to the back – Honorary Chair Persons for the evening.  Of course, Jack Garner was listed, our city’s resident film critic, albeit retired.  I expected that.  Unexpected was seeing Robert Forster’s name and picture.  I had no idea Forster had any connection with my city and/or the Dryden, but there he was.  And indeed, fifteen minutes later, there he was again – walking past my seat up the aisle to have a seat in the audience.  Holy shit, that was just Robert Forster! 

Already the evening was far more than I had imagined it to be.

Yup, he was there.  Walked right past me too.  Holy crap.

 When the lights dimmed, we opened with a five minute video about the renovations themselves, followed by several speeches.  The first two speeches focused on the George Eastman House and the Dryden specifically, and they were very nice.  Next up was the film programmer who talked about Alexander Payne.  And then the man himself, Mr. Payne appeared and briefly introduced Sideways.

I will save my review for Sideways for a separate post.  Needless to say, I really love that film, and it was brilliant seeing it in a sold-out theater.  The laughter was infectious.

After the film ended, the film programmer Lori joined Alexander Payne on the stage.  But he wasn’t the only one there.  Rex Pickett, author of the novel Sideways, was also in attendance.  As was Jim Taylor, Payne’s screenwriting partner.  Jesus H. Christ, this evening just kept on getting bigger.  I could hardly believe it.

Pickett was hysterical.  Clearly an ex-hippie-surfer dude, he was crass and uncensored, but in a loveable way.  He spoke about how Sideways the novel was incredibly autobiographical for him, how he was Miles at one point in his life, and he also spoke about how film was his first passion, how he writes with a focus for dialogue rather than description.  And he was not shy for praising Payne in his adaptation, talking about working with him to maintain the idiosyncrasies of the story, avoiding contrivances.  (He also called the Japanese remake of Sideways “unwatchable.”)  My favorite quote from the evening had to come from Pickett, when he said that if Michael Bay had adapted Sideways, “it would have become two dudes doing jello shots in Cabo.”

Alexander Payne was precisely as I remembered him – intelligent, passionate, and very kind and gracious.  He loves film.  I think I love film, but this guy is worlds apart from me.  He spoke passionately about how lucky we in this city are to have a place like the Dryden (I know, Alexander, I know), about how honored he felt to be asked back here for this event.  He insisted on taking all of the questions that people wanted to ask even when the programmer said we were running out of time.  He spoke of Welles, Antonioni, Allen, Scorsese, Hal Ashby, and Leo McCarey.  He very particularly identifies with that last director, responding to McCarey’s sense of comedy and also his humanism.  He specifically referenced Make Way for Tomorrow.  I liked his mention of that film as the one time I watched it was at – you guessed it – the Dryden, and I literally sat in my seat and wept for five minutes when the film ended before I got up and left. 

Payne wants to be – and is – a very humanist director.  He clearly communicated that he is interested in people, in Americans, in real Americans, not cartoon caricatures.  He is fascinated by pathos and melancholy but also humor and foibles.  He wants to tell stories about these people in a sympathetic way. 

I love this guy.

Press photo of Payne speaking at the Dryden about Election in 2006.

After the Q&A, my sister and I rather unabashedly rushed the stage – easy, given we were sitting in the fifth row.  I wanted to talk to him.  I wanted an autograph (well, another autograph – I got Election signed back in 2006).  Most of all, I wanted a picture.  Meaghan went first, getting her copy of The Descendants signed, and I took a couple shots of her and Mr. Payne, who was incredibly gracious in dealing with us rather rabid fans.  After Meaghan, I nabbed Alexander Payne’s attention.  I can’t remember what I initially said, but I do remember this exchange. (I’m paraphrasing, mind you.)

“I really love, in your films, how you use locations, real locations.”

The man smiled – he liked my comment!  “What is it you like about them?”

“I like the cracked pavements, the leaves in the yard, the empty beer bottle on the table – it’s just REAL, and it resonates with me so much more!  It’s really unlike so many other Hollywood films.”

“Thank you so much for saying that, I really appreciate it.  I don’t understand why Hollywood feels the need to prettify everything.  There’s so much natural beauty in this world.  I don’t want to change it, I want to capture it.”

I’m sorry, Siobhan wasn’t listening to anything you said after “thank you for saying that, I really appreciate it.”

I’m still reveling in the feeling that I was able to tell one of my favorite contemporary directors how much I loved his films – I actually told him “If I made movies, I’d make movies the way you do,” which is completely true – and was able to make a fairly intelligent observation about his work that he responded to in a very positive way. 

Fuck it, I talked to Alexander Payne about movies.  How fucking cool is that.

He posed for a picture with me too.

Yup, that's me and a dude who's won two Oscars.  I am very happy.

 Like I said, very kind, very intelligent, very gracious.  I am a fan, Mr. Payne.  I have been a fan for almost fifteen years now, and I will continue to be a fan. 

Last night was a film EVENT.  And it was AWESOME.  Definitely one of the most amazing theater experiences I’ve ever had.